


The One to Watch Out For

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Lucy Preston is a Firecracker, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: Oddly enough, it's not Flynn or Wyatt who're necessarily the magnets for trouble.AKA Lucy starts a bar fight.





	The One to Watch Out For

Most people look at them and immediately make the highly accurate assumption that Flynn is the one they need to look out for.

He doesn’t really help by wearing leather jackets and looming over everyone and sending death glares to anybody who check out Lucy’s breasts or Wyatt’s ass. And he’s kind of obvious about his strength. Anyone who looks at Garcia Flynn knows, this is a man who’s done some Very Bad Things.

A few people, however, are smart enough to notice Wyatt, too. The way that Wyatt stands with his legs slightly apart, a certain set to his shoulders. Those people realize that Wyatt’s scoping out the exits while he’s laughing with everyone and making friends, getting them to open up, getting them to trust him. Wyatt’s danger is the danger of a soldier on a mission, the danger of a man who makes you become friends with him first so that if you have to shoot him, you have that crucial moment of hesitation.

Nobody ever thinks about Lucy.

How could they when she’s a foot smaller than one boyfriend and five inches shorter than the other? When she dolls herself up and wears bright red lipstick and pets her boys lovingly, telling them hey now, straighten up, behave.

Those people should probably notice that when Lucy says behave, both of those very dangerous men listen.

Another thing that most people do when they look at them is immediately assume that Flynn is bad news. Maybe it’s Flynn’s coloring, or his accent. Maybe it’s the fuck off attitude, or the overly confident swagger. Flynn’s the more overtly possessive one, the one who puts his hand at the small of Lucy’s back and hovers over her while she puts in her drink order, so most people label Flynn as the boyfriend rather than Wyatt, and nobody ever thinks to make the connection that there’s a third party to worry about here.

But every once in a while, the people who think Flynn is bad news and who also underestimate Lucy get it into their heads to tell her that they think she can do better.

Usually by doing better with, well, them.

Wyatt’s over at the pinball machine on the far end of the bar and he’s starting to get that determined gleam in his eye that means he’s not moving from this spot for God or money.

Lucy’s at the opposite end, perched on a bar stool at the corner of the bar top, and she gives Flynn a look he knows well. It’s the _check on the golden retriever we like to call our boyfriend_ look.

Flynn heads over, drink in hand to give as a kind of peace offering because Wyatt Logan interrupted from a pinball game streak is not the kind of man you want to deal with.

Neither Flynn nor Wyatt hear exactly what happens while Lucy’s unattended. Flynn sets the beer down, eyeing the high score.

“I’m almost there,” Wyatt grits out, his tone saying _if you pull me away from this, neither of you are getting laid._

“I didn’t say anything,” Flynn replies, in a tone that says _listen if it’s between pissing off you or pissing off Lucy I know whose good side I need to stay on if I want to be alive tomorrow morning._

He stands there and observes, though, because Wyatt is really good at this ridiculous game and maybe his concentration and fine motor skills are kind of attractive.

Somewhere behind them comes a thumping noise. It’s easily ignored.

The distinctive sound of somebody getting punched is not.

Both men whip around to see another man go staggering backwards, his hand covering his bleeding nose. He’d been sitting at a booth with some buddies, someone Wyatt had scoped out but Flynn hadn’t even bothered to notice (when you’re a few inches taller and more in shape than anyone else in the room, you kind of stop noticing).

Standing in all her five foot five inch tall glory, looking like a pillar of righteous indignation, is Lucy.

And unfortunately, she’s just getting started.

She takes the beer she’s been nursing and smashes it across the guy’s face. She still isn’t all that good at classic hand-to-hand combat, but she’s developed a lovely fighting style that Wyatt has dubbed the “Lucy Preston Grab the Nearest Piece of Furniture and Smash Someone in the Face With It” technique.

The guy goes for her, pride wounded, ready to teach this bitch a lesson—but Lucy’s been traveling through time, thank you very much, and has seen more danger in one day then most men see in a lifetime.

So naturally she’s faster, ducking under the guy’s swing, grabbing her barstool, and swings it at the guy’s head.

He goes down like a sack of bricks.

“Oh fuck,” Wyatt says, eloquently, because now she’s gotten all of that guy’s buddies pissed off and, well, it’s kind of in the Boyfriend Contract that you don’t let your tiny historian girlfriend take on four guys by herself.

“What the fuck did he say to you?” Wyatt asks five minutes later, as he’s dodging a roundhouse aimed at his temple.

Lucy’s a little busy screaming curses in French at one of the other guys, so Flynn obligingly picks her up—still screaming—and neatly deposits her out of the way.

“This was our day off,” Flynn reminds her. He’s only a little put out, though. He loves fistfights.

“Do you have any idea how close I was to that high score?” Wyatt demands, which gives his opponent the opportunity to tackle him, which leads to a lot of rolling around and damaging furniture.

“We’re not ever going to be able to come here again,” Flynn notes.

Lucy switches back to English. “So you all can just piss right the _fuck_ off—”

“Time to go,” Flynn says. He picks her up again, ignoring how she kicks at him, and then pulls out his gun and fires it into the ceiling.

Everyone freezes.

Lucy’s deposited behind Flynn. He offers Wyatt a hand up. “That’s my cue, I think,” Wyatt says, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

Lucy’s still going. “Get your goddamn hero complexes out of the way and let me _kick their asses_ —”

“We’ll be leaving now,” Flynn says as Wyatt wrestles Lucy out of the bar. “Good day, gentlemen.”

He nudges the guy that Lucy smashed with a barstool. “Except for you. I hope she broke something.”

He then gives them all a jaunty smile and follows his boyfriend and still-yelling girlfriend out the door.

“What the hell was that all about?” Wyatt’s demanding when Flynn gets out there.

“I am sick and fucking tired,” Lucy spits, “Of people telling me Garcia is bad news.”

“He does kind of perpetrate that—ow!” Wyatt yelps as Flynn starts examining the rapidly-developing black eye Wyatt’s now got.

Lucy folds her arms. “People don’t get to talk shit about my boyfriends. And they certainly don’t get to condescend to me and tell me they know what’s best for me.”

“We should unleash her on the 1950s,” Flynn mutters.

Wyatt tries to glare, which is a little hard to do when your eye is swelling up. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I mean, honestly,” Lucy continues, “Do I look like some kind of idiot? Do I have ‘piece of meat’ in neon lights above my head and I’ve just never noticed? Am I—”

“You realize this is another bar we can’t ever go back to, right?” Wyatt asks, but he’s starting to go from annoyed to amused.

Flynn, who was amused to begin with, just shrugs. “There are plenty of bars around here. All with pinball machines, I’m sure.”

Wyatt flips him off, but he’s grinning, and now Lucy’s grinning too, and, well. Maybe they can’t go back to that bar, but getting to watch Lucy smash that guy in with a beer bottle and a barstool?

Totally worth it.

Because most people look at Garcia Flynn and assume, accurately, that he’s the morally ambiguous one. He’s the one who hasn’t seen a rule he hasn’t happily bent or broken. And a few people look at Wyatt and realize that he’s the tactical one, the one who’s got you beat before the fight even starts. But Lucy?

Lucy’s the one with the temper.

**Author's Note:**

> After the horrible angst that was "The Soft Goodbye" I had to post something fluffy to make up for it.


End file.
